


Backstage Dalliances

by MagicTrashCan



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Maybe more - Freeform, One Night Stands, Pining, Random Encounters, but this is where we're at, listen i don't actually know what this is yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-04-06 13:18:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicTrashCan/pseuds/MagicTrashCan
Summary: Ember has worked for The Stage Management Association for over five years. She's worked the Globe's, the Emmy's, the Oscar's, hell, even the VMA's. Nothing was too small and everything gave her the experience she needed. And now, she was to work the Oscar's as the second in command, the one on the ground, keeping things from falling apart. But one actress's vice leads her to make a decision that could cost her her career, or, elevate her above all others.Either way, there's no turning back after this.





	1. Smoke Break

**Author's Note:**

> Man. I have ~no~ idea what this fic is, or is going to be. Will there be smut? Eventually. Will there be Emotions? Certainly. Is this entire thing a self-satisfying trainwreck? Absolutely.
> 
> Anyway, here's my best effort at...something.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Ember pursed her lips and tapped out a rapid message to the tech in the green room.

“Language, sweetie,” Marie sang at her as she passed, arms overflowing with water bottles, and still managing to shoot a shit eating grin over her shoulder without tripping.

Ember glared after her, even as she vanished amidst swirling gowns and sharp suits, and slipped on her ear piece. _Which you_ should _have been wearing anyway_. “Mike, tell me you’re all set over there.”

“You wouldn’t be paging me if I was,” came his grumble in her ear.

She swore, loudly enough that it turned a few heads. She shook her head and looked at the wall to avoid the nosy looks. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Nobody can find Chastain anywhere. And before you ask, I’m already looking for her.”

She huffed through her nose. “They’re due on stage in literally five minutes.”

“I know. Can you get Hiddleston there for me? I’ll try to meet you.”

She started marching toward the green room, her dress billowing behind her and tangling between her legs. “I ever tell you how much I hate these things?” she growled.

“Every time.” She could almost hear his smirk. “See you in five.”

“Four. And you better.”

As the conversation ended, she pushed open the green room door. Inside were dozens of celebrities, all glittering and shining and looking carved to perfection. She pressed her tongue against her bottom teeth and tiptoed in an attempt to try and spot the tall man with curly hair.

“You look a little lost.”

Ember turned to see Emma Stone standing next to her, smiling, surprisingly. She did her best to return it and bite back the snippy remark that came forth on instinct. “Something like that.”

“Who are you looking for?” the woman asked, shooting her own cursory glance over the small crowd.

“Tom Hiddleston. He’s next to present.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were crew!” Emma laughed once and gave her a once over. “I didn’t even notice the ear piece. One second, I’ll get him for you.” She vanished in twirl of red chiffon, leaving Ember alone in the doorway.

Ember couldn’t help but tap her foot, not bothering to avoid the edges of her dress. A glance at her tablet showed a whopping two minutes left until it was time to present. Her heart yammered against her chest and made her blood hot and heavy.

“Here she is!”

Ember turned to her left to see Emma dragging a bemused Hiddleston by his elbow. _Goddamn he’s tall_. Emma was beaming as they stopped before her, her dress ruffling before it settled around her legs. “Found him.”

“Thank you,” Ember nodded, giving her a tight smile. “Let’s go.” And before she could allow herself to process the way the actor was now smiling, and the way his eyes gave her a cursory – and somehow still respectful? – once over, and the way that suit was cut _just right_ , she grabbed him by the other elbow and began dragging him along, at a canter, to their position.

“My apologies for making you wait. I had no idea it had gotten so late.”

“Not your fault.” She shot him a polite smile over her shoulder. “You were supposed to be picked up ten minutes ago, but things have gone a bit to shit at the moment.”

He chuckled then, a lilting sound that made her heart rate spike in a way that had nothing to do with her impending panic. They rounded a corner and suddenly they stood alone at the base of the stairs to the stage, with no sign of Mike or Chastain anywhere.

Ember swore and released Hiddleston’s elbow as she glanced back around the corner. “Mike?”

“I have her, but we are getting re-scanned by security. She was out back smoking.”

“No way. You have _two_ _minutes_ to get here, Mike.”

“We won’t make it,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Ember didn’t respond, only rubbed her temple and closed her eyes as she attempted to maintain the calming breaths her therapist had taught her.

“What’s happened?”

“Your co-star is indisposed,” she sighed, trying her damnedest not to let the venom leak into her voice. She looked up at him and gave him a sugar sweet smile. “It appears you’ll be presenting on your own, Mr. Hiddleston.”

His eyes, which had originally held concern, flashed from shock to anger to resignation in a second. “Are you serious?”

“Afraid so. I’m terribly sorry.”

He sighed and dug his hands into his pockets. “What am I supposed to tell them? Most of the lines on the prompter are made for us in conjunction.”

Ember pursed her lips. He looked so dejected, his eyes far off and sullen. She offered him a small, sincere smile. “I’ve seen your work before. I’m sure you’ll handle it with the charm and grace you usually possess.”

He smirked at that, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Before he could speak, another tech appeared and handed him the sealed envelope, and vanished again as soon as they did.

“Well, I’m sure you’re well versed in how this goes,” Ember started, looking at the envelope and back to him.

He was tapping his fingers against the envelope and just…staring at her, a small smile forming on his lips.

She frowned at him. “What?”

“You know how this works, too, you know.”

It took a second, then his words settled in and made sense. Her eyes flew open and she backed up a step. “Oh, no. Not in this lifetime, pal.”

“Thirty seconds,” came the warning in her ear.

“You have thirty seconds,” she repeated for him.

He placed one foot on the stairs and held a hand out for her. “I know we don’t know each other, but you look lovely, and you’re well spoken, and I don’t want to go out there alone.”

“You don’t even know my name!” Her mouth felt too dry and her voice cracked in odd places.

“Then tell me,” he laughed.

“Ember.”

“Ember. I’m Tom. Pleasure to meet you. Now, come with me?”

“I’ll lose my job.” She clutched her tablet tighter, on instinct.

“I’ll talk to your boss.” He grinned anew, somehow looking more handsome than he had yet. “Please?”

“Ten seconds,” came another warning.

The world seemed to slow down as her heart rate pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sound. What were the fucking odds that some actor would be asking her to present an Oscar with him? What were the fucking odds that she was even _considering_ doing this, with a total stranger, with a literal time bomb happening all around her?

“Fuck it.”

She took his hand and he grinned, luminescent and lovely, and moved her hand to his elbow as they ascended the stairs to the stage.

_I should not be doing this…_

She was not prepared for anything that happened in the next three seconds. In the half second before they broke the surface to the stage, she switched off her ear piece, but even that wasn’t enough preparation. If it wasn’t for Hiddleston she would have collapsed or froze or puked or done some other ridiculous, embarrassing thing. The lights were immediately blinding; like waking up from dead sleep and opening your eyes to the sun at noon. If that wasn’t disorienting enough, the applause was deafening to the point where she couldn’t even think, to the point where her fight or flight instinct immediately kicked into overdrive. She gripped Tom’s elbow tighter, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as he dragged them toward the mic at center stage.

“Just breathe,” he said through his smile, then turned to her directly just before they reached said mic. “I’ve got you.”

“Okay,” she squeaked.

He stopped them and surveyed the crowd. “Well,” Tom started, smirking at them. “For my first time at the Oscars, you all certainly don’t disappoint. Everyone is just as beautiful and drunk as I expected.”

The crowd laughed and Ember swallowed. Her eyes had adjusted now, and she could see the prompter, and the spread of glitter and elegance that was the crowd. As they calmed she caught the prompter – a line for her - for Chastain - that was relevant to the film she and Tom had starred in together. But before she had a moment to panic or process how to respond, Tom took over.

“Ember, is this your first time as well?” He glanced down at her, a small encouraging smile on his face.

Warmth pooled in her gut. She couldn’t explain it – call it weakness, call it sparks, call it law of attraction – but the world narrowed down and her fear disappeared. It was only him before her. Just the two of them, talking.

“My first time seeing drunk celebrities in expensive clothes?” She looked at the crowd and smirked. “Definitely not.”

That earned her a laugh and a grin broke across her face as a result. Adrenaline raced up her spine, erasing away any tendrils of nervousness.

Tom was grinning at her now. “And I expect it won’t be the last.” He faced the crowd again. “And speaking of drunks…”

Ember read the paired lines as they came. Their fake banter was ridiculous, and as corny as every other award show she’d ever worked on, but she couldn’t bring herself to mind. She read the line that lead to the announcement of Best Supporting Actor, applauded after Tom called out his name, and stood quietly throughout another “thank you” speech that no one would remember in the morning. As the actor closed out, Tom placed a light touch at the small of her back, which was exposed due to the nature of her gown. The resulting spike of heat in her blood was almost enough to make her trip.

They descended last, and when they reached the bottom, Tom removed his hand and she breathed a sigh of relief, clutching her hand to her throat as the adrenaline evaporated from her system.

“Holy fuck…” she breathed, staring at the floor.

“Are you alright?” Tom asked, placing his hand on her elbow and cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah, I just–” She looked at him finally. “No…actually. Umm – oh god, I can’t believe I did that.” She swallowed and pulled up her tablet. It was completely blown up with messages from Mike, Marie, Jerome, and worst of all, her boss.

_Celeste Hoop: Turn your earpiece on NOW!_

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she breathed, tapping out a few rapid replies. When she looked up at him, the concern in his eyes had worsened. She attempted to smile, but felt the tightness probably only made for a grimace. “Thank you for helping me up there, but I have to go. I have to handle this.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she didn’t have time. Sure, he was nice, but her goose was rightly and totally cooked if she didn’t get a grip on this situation. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. As she moved through the backstage crowd, she turned her earpiece back on.

“What the fuck?”

“Ember, you did not just…”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I swear to fucking god.”

The voices were all simultaneous and loud and _a lot._ Ember sighed, rubbing her temple as she worried her bottom lip. “I can explain.”


	2. After Shock

The cool of the polished mahogany bar against her forehead did very little to calm her nerves amidst the clamor of the party. Why she’d let her, now previous, co-workers drag her along, she would never know. The last thing she needed right now was to be around people.

“I just…can’t understand why in the hell you did it,” Jerome said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“I am really over this line of conservation,” she muttered into the bar.

“It’s just so out of character for you to do something to so completely shit the bed, Em.”

“Another shot for this one!” she heard Marie call out. Within moments, a glass filled to the brim slid their way. Marie nudged her elbow with her own.

“Oi.” Ember rolled her head to look at her friend. How the woman was always able to get the bartender’s instant attention wherever they went was beyond her, but right then she couldn’t have hated the skill more. She glanced at the shot and back to her friend without lifting her head. “There’s no way I’m drinking that. I’ve already had three.”

“Nonsense.” Marie threw her arm around her shoulder and leaned toward her ear. “Your job’s not lost yet, and you still kept the show running seamlessly. No one except Celeste even cares, or even noticed probably.”

“Ha!” Ember sat up and tossed the shot back, squinting as it burned its way down, and threw her a look. “Celeste specifically told me she would be speaking to me about my conduct tomorrow, and if that’s not the most cliché pre-cursor to ‘I’m firing you in the morning,’ then I’ll eat my fucking shoe.”

Marie threw her head back in a laugh. Seeing her friend that delighted, Ember couldn’t help the ghost of a smile that came to her lips. “And when tomorrow comes and you still have a job working with us schmucks,” Marie indicated the others with her shot glass before downing it, and coughed once before continuing, “I’m holding you to that.”

“And when I’m right, you owe me a spot on your couch, since I’ll be homeless.”

“Always with the dramatics, Em,” Mike sighed, shaking his head a little even as he smiled.

“ _You_  were the one  _responsible_  for Chastain!” she groaned, drinking the other shot Marie had placed in her hand. The heat was beginning to get to her, and the glitter of the crowd mixed with the noise made it hard to focus.

“I can’t help that she snuck off! I told Celeste as much, too.” He sipped his lager and looked around the room at all the shining, famous faces, mixed in with producers and reporters and directors and managers and whatever other “important” persons milled about. When he turned back to her he was smirking. “I think it’s gonna turn out alright. No need to let it spoil your night.”

“Fat chance,” she grumbled.

The song overhead switched to  _Miami_ by Will Smith, and Marie stopped dead and turned to her, a wild grin on her face.

“Absolutely not.” Ember shook her head and sat on the stool for good measure. It was then that she realized her feet were wobblier than she thought.

“Please!” Marie was already dragging her up and toward the dance floor, and Ember didn’t have the energy to fight it. “This was our  _song_  in undergrad, you have to.”

Then they were in the center of the floor, surrounded by strangers. Ember stood stock still for a moment amidst the teeming bodies, while her friend rolled her hips like a real professional. She could already feel her discomfort from being around so many strangers melt away as the beat of the song filled her senses, and before she knew it, she was singing along.

Marie cackled and pulled their hands together as they recited in unison:

_“Here I am in the place where I come let go_

_Miami the bass and the sunset low_

_Everyday like a mardi gras, everybody party all day_

_No work all play, okay_

_So we sip a little something, lay to rest the spill_

_Me an Charlie at the bar runnin' up a high bill_

_Nothin' less than ill, when we dress to kill_

_Every time the ladies pass, they be like "hi Will"_

Ember lost herself in the words, allowed them to take form in carefree movement and laughter. Getting fired in the morning? Embarrassing herself in front of all her peers? The girl who cared was still at the bar. The girl on the floor just wanted to dance.

Marie’s elbow in her ribs made her fumble on the lyrics and narrow her focus again.

“What?”

Marie only nodded behind them both, and then returned to her dancing as if she hadn’t reacted at all. Ember had no such inconspicuous intuition, and turned around immediately.

In the gaps between bodies, she spotted him. It wasn’t hard, given his height. He was dancing with the missing actress from earlier, singing along loudly with the rest of the dance floor. There was a brief beat of anonymity, as she looked on while he laughed and moved his long limbs with surprising grace, before he glanced her way.

For the second time that night, Ember felt time slow around her and her senses grow quiet. A flash of heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol raced across her skin as he held her gaze. She had long stopped singing, and now so had he, but that impish grin that made his eyes light up, even in the low light and all the way across the floor, remained present on his face. She couldn’t bring herself to do more than gape.

Marie pulled her elbow, dragging her gaze back around.

“Was he looking?”

Ember flushed.  _Because of the heat, the alcohol_. “Not really.”

Marie grinned, lascivious and full of trouble. “Liar.” The song ended and switched to something more modern, more background, and the crowd dispersed a bit. Marie ran a hand across her forehead and popped a hand on her hip as she nodded behind Ember’s head. “He’s coming this way.”

Ember whipped around in panic and lost her footing slightly, just in time to be caught right in the arms of the actor in question. Even as she braced herself against his forearms, Marie’s failed attempt at stifling a giggle told her that the moment was exactly as cliché as this entire night had been.

“Ah, sorry.” She straightened and separated herself from him, offering a tight smile. “I’ve had one too many shots, I think.”

He was smiling, those damned eyes sparkling as he did. She gulped as he put his hands in his pockets and straightened as well. “It’s no trouble. I wanted to thank you for your help earlier. Can I buy you a drink?”

She chuckled once and ran a hand against her dress absently. “Are you serious?”

“Of course you can,” Marie said at the same time, sidling up next to her and guiding her forward into a more intimate stance with the man. “I’m Marie, by the way. Big Fan.” She held her hand out and he took it without faltering at her practically comical levels of obviousness. “Anyway, you kids have fun! I’ll see you around.”

And she was gone in a whirl of fabric, lost between the bodies mingling on the dance floor.

“So. Shall we?” he asked, a quirk of his eyebrow following the question.

Ember couldn’t help but laugh. This actor, this person of renown of some sort, this absolute picture of human beauty, was standing in front of her, asking to buy her a drink.  _Ridiculous. My life is officially ridiculous_. “Sure. Why not?”

He held his hand out, a question in his eyes, and she wasn’t sure what it was, but she nodded anyway. She was answered by his hand at the small of her back, guiding her off the floor and toward one of the bars that skirted the walls of the gigantic room. Keeping her breathing in check was an exercise of will: His touch was soft, and unspeakably warm, and it may have been her imagination, but it almost felt as if his thumb moved in a purposeful caress at one point on their walk.

 _You’re like a simpering school girl. How long have you worked in this industry? How many times have asshole actors tried to hit on you? How many times have they_ succeeded _and made you look like an idiot? Get your shit together._

He pulled a stool out for her at the bar and once she was settled claimed the one next to it. The bar in question was relatively quiet in comparison to the others around the room, crowded mainly by off-duty staffers and low-ball execs.

“What’s your drink?”

“Uh, Washington Apple, please.”

He waved down the bartender and gave their orders. When he turned his gaze back on her, that sparkle had returned to his eyes, though he only wore a hint of a smile. “It’s nice to be able to talk to you without,” he gestured at her ear, “others screaming in your head.”

She smirked. “It’s a rare occurrence. I’m usually working these gigs too.”

“Really? What is it exactly that you do?”

“Uh, the long and short of it would be ‘event management,’” she said with air quotes as their drinks arrived. “Basically, think of stage management in theater, if the actors didn’t know their cues and lines until you told them.”

He laughed. “That sounds like a nightmare.” He quirked his head and sipped his drink as he held her gaze, looking all too invested in her ramblings.

She rolled her eyes and took a hearty pull of her drink. “It’s alright most of the time. Tonight is just a glaring example of my own incompetence.”

“Now, hang on,” he interjected, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. One of his short curls flopped forward onto his brow. “What you did kept things running smoothly, and saved me from making a total arse of myself. Maybe I’m biased, but it seems that you are  _exemplary_  in your capabilities of running these things.”

“You  _are_  biased.” She passed her drink back toward the bartender and gestured for another. “Water, please. If an event is run properly, event staff is never seen nor heard. I broke both of those rules tonight. And I’m breaking even more rules now.” She smiled despite herself and shook her head at her own idiocy.

He leaned an elbow on the bar and propped his head against his hand, a grin breaking across his face. “Oh, yeah? What rules are you breaking?”

“Canoodling,” she over enunciated the word, then giggled. “Though that’s not so much a rule as it is general practice.”

“Well, we’re hardly doing any ‘canoodling.’ We’re simply two adult professionals sharing a drink.” His tone was serious, even if his shit eating grin hadn’t gone away.

Ember snorted, a bubble blowing into her water as a result. “Yeah. And that’s why you whisked me away to the quietest bar in the room, at the shadowed edges of a big party. Very, very professional.”

“Mmm.” He sipped his drink. “In my defense, between the two of us, we’d hardly be able to have this conversation were we in the midst of everything else.”

“True. My friends are a bit energetic.”

“And mine are waxing poetic about their upcoming works. Not that they shouldn’t be, but it can be exhausting.”

“So you don’t want to talk to me about your next film, Mr. Hiddleston?” she asked, arching a brow and pressing her tongue against her lower lip as she failed to hide her smile. Where her gusto had come from, she wasn’t entirely sure –  _probably the alcohol_  – but this man was charming and handsome, and goddamn, she could bask in the flirting on the last night of her career.

He laughed, a rich sound that sent warmth racing through her.  _Jesus, woman_. “Not exactly. I’m quite enjoying your company and if we start talking about work we’ll have to  _actually_  be professional, and that just won’t do.” He straightened and let his arm relax on the bar, his hand landing dangerously close to hers. She blushed and took another drink with her other hand.

“That’s true. I suppose we could talk about something a  _bit_  less mundane.”

“What would you like to discuss?”

“Nothing really comes to mind when you ask like that,” she laughed. “So posh and serious.”

“Ah. Posh because of the accent right?”

“It seemed fitting,” she shrugged.

“Right.”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed. “I know that’s the same tired bit you hear from every American, reporter or otherwise. I should do better than that.”

“It’s quite alright.”

“Mmm.” She blinked slowly. “Holidays! Holidays are upon us. What are your plans? Anything exotic, or are you more a family man?”

“Exotic,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “No, not quite. I actually don’t have anything on my schedule, for once, so I’m going home and staying with my mum. My sisters are planning on coming home too, so it should be a full family extravaganza. It’s the first one we’ve had in quite a few years. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“That’s so lovely. I hope you have a wonderful time. I’m sure you could use the break.”

“I could. What about you? Are you visiting family as well?”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Maybe. There’s usually some sort of work thing, but honestly, my family can be a bit much at times, particularly at holidays.”

“How so?”

“Normal things mostly. Every family is complicated by their own minutia, and mine is just personal enough that I would rather not discuss it. Not now, anyway.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” She was struck by the sincere glint in his eyes that accompanied the words. “I definitely understand.”

“No! No, no, no, stop it.” She wasn’t sure what compelled her to do so, but before she could truly process the action, she placed her hand on his on the table and squeezed. “Really, it’s fine. They’re just personal things. You didn’t pry.”

He glanced at her, then her hand on his, then back to her again. Slowly, no doubt even more slowed by the alcohol, she registered what she was doing. Her eyes went wide and she started to pull her hand away, but he flipped his over and grasped it before she could.

“I don’t mind.” He grinned and cocked his head to the side, his eyes still doing that goddamn twinkling, mischievous  _thing_.

Her face flushed, but she squeezed his hand again. “You are just trouble incarnate, aren’t you?”

His eyes shifted slightly, turning darker almost, but his smile stayed the same, even as his voice dipped lower. “I can be, if that’s what you want.”

 _God, no wonder everyone adores him. Who could resist_ that _?_  “I see,” was all she choked out.

Just then, the song shifted overhead to  _I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You_ , causing both their heads to perk up.

“Oh, this is one of my favorites,” she whispered, swaying a bit to the melody.

Tom stood then, keeping hold of her hand and giving it a slight tug. All he did was smile, different than moments ago; this one was warm and sweet and lacked the heat from before. God, he was a whirlwind. She would catch whiplash at this rate.

“I’m…very drunk, Tom. I don’t trust my feet.”

He stepped closer, placing his free hand tentatively at her waist. “I won’t let you fall.” It was a promise, and uttered in a sinfully thick, low tone.

Ember swallowed once, then nodded, and allowed him to pull her up and into his arms.

They didn’t go far. Neither seemed to have the desire to rejoin the throng. Instead, he led her only a few feet from the bar itself and brought her flush against his chest. It was…warm there, like the rest of his touch had been. At first she could hardly focus between his cologne, which was divine, of course, and the heat mingling with her already muddied senses, but as Elvis continued to croon at them, she felt herself relax into his embrace, pressing herself closer and resting her head against his chest. He rested his hands respectfully at her lower back, drawing small, sweet circles against her exposed skin with one of his thumbs.

It was more blissful than it should’ve been. Even in her haze, it was startling.

“A rather romantic song for two strangers to dance to,” she commented, her words surprisingly clear.

He only hummed into her hair; not quite kissing the top of her head, but it almost felt like he wanted to. “Still. It’s a lovely song.”

Her heart raced against her chest, to a point she wondered if he could feel it. Maybe she was too drunk, or too worried still about her job, but  _this_ , whatever was happening between them, was different in a way she was too terrified to want to define. Even under the banter and the heated looks, he was holding her and touching in truly dangerous ways. Ways she couldn’t afford to let herself get tangled into.

As the song ended and shifted into something more upbeat, Ember was surprised when neither of them immediately pulled away. He had stopped swaying but seemed content to stay there and hold her close.

Nope. That would not stand.

She pulled back and looked up at him, excuses to leave on the tip of her tongue, but he dipped his head low and intercepted her mouth before the words could escape.

His lips were too warm and too soft and he was too gentle, pulling her closer as their mouths tentatively explored each other. Against her better judgement, she pressed herself closer still, tracing her tongue across his bottom lip until he granted her entrance and let their tongues explore and devour. She was barely aware her hand was moving until her fingers were twisting into his soft curls, tugging lightly with him tightening his grip on her waist in response.

A new song started by the time they separated, both panting and leaning their foreheads together.

“I, uh…” the thought evaporated before she could finish it. He tasted good. He felt  _good_.

“You are so lovely.” He tipped her chin up so they were looking at each other and then leaned down to her ear, the heat of his breath there sending a pulse straight to her groin. “All I want to do right now is take you away from this place and–” he punctuated the sentence with a gaze of teeth against her throat, followed but a kiss there and a tighter grip at her waist. “But if that’s not what you want, just say the word.”

She swallowed and licked her lips, then stepped back and placed a hand on his chest. “I, ha, Tom, I very much want you to do…whatever the hell you want to me, honestly. But I can’t invite trouble into my life right now. You’re lovely, but I’ve already had too much to drink and have my job to worry about tomorrow. I think I should go home. Alone.”

He nodded once, his face completely exposing how crestfallen he clearly was.  _I have no idea why. There are hundreds of women here who would die to be with him_. “I can respect that.” He sighed and stepped back from her to a respectful distance, but keeping a hold on one hand. Locking his gaze onto hers, he kissed her hand and gave her a small smile. “It was an unparalleled pleasure to meet you, Ember.”

She couldn’t fight her smile then. “You too, Tom.”

With a squeeze, he released her hand and buried his own in his pockets. She gave him a short nod, then turned back to the crowd to weave her way through to the exit. With any luck, she could avoid her friends, sleep all the drinking off, and forget the whole thing ever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-ooooooooo
> 
> I'm.....the worst at updating. Inspiration is a fickle beast and I am a slave to it. But! I'm inspired lately, so hopefully more soon?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. You are an angel, worthy of all the good things in this world. <3
> 
> Any comments/kudos/what-have-yous are appreciated ^_^


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